


The Chase

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Solavellan [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dreams, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Solas is Fen'Harel (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 20:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20982065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Lavellan dreams.





	The Chase

Solas was silent, lying in bed beside the Inquisitor, watching his chest rise and fall. He breathed evenly in sleep, and Solas could feel his connection to the Fade, the ease of his dreams about him. Lavellan dreamed of green glades and forestry, vivid beyond imagining: in his dreams, he had the senses of one of the People, and he moved with the grace of a cat, moving slowly through the leaves, his bow in hand.

He was always hunting, in his dreams.

Solas had mentioned it, once, had asked if he had noticed, too, if he remembered when he woke of a morn. Always, always, Lavellan’s dreams set him moving through the undergrowth, holding his bow at his side or gripping his knife in his palm, making his way slowly upon his prey.

Rabbits, usually, or nugs.

Fowl, sometimes, and often deer.

Had Solas not seen the way he could set upon an August Ram in one sudden, sweeping movement, coming to reality from the hidden realm of whatever stealthy dimension he created with a thought, he might have believed it was only the stuff of dreams.

“Every night, you dream of hunting,” Solas had murmured in his ear as Lavellan stirred, leaning in toward his body. “Are you sure it is Mythal’s vallaslin you should wear upon your face?”

“If you had it your way, I wouldn’t have vallaslin at all,” Lavellan had mumbled against his belly, nuzzling closer, too sleepy to feel the way Solas stiffened, to notice the way his grip tightened on Lavellan’s hair. “No. I don’t hunt for pleasure – I hunt to feed the ones I love.”

“You _love_ it,” Solas had murmured. “In your dreams, you’re exhilarated by it – you scarcely hunt that much, when we’re in the field. Why not?”

“I shouldn’t enjoy it as much as I do. It isn’t about the killing. It’s about… the chase.”

He’d slept again, then.

Just like he was sleeping now, in the wood – and what if something chased him? What if something were to come upon him, growl, pounce and pin him down amidst the grass, bite its brand into his skin and mark him ‘til he bled? Would he try to get away? Would he struggle, would he cry?

In his sleep, Lavellan gave his answer: he tipped his head back on the bed, neck bared, and spread his body invitingly beside Solas, that Solas might freely draw him closer, and draw him closer he did. He wrapped his arms around the other man, curled his fingers in his hair, and when Lavellan released a somnolent protest, he nipped the corner of his ear.

“Yield,” he whispered in Lavellan’s ear, not letting himself join him in the Fade, not yet. “You are the prey, here, set upon by the wolf.”

“Wolf,” Lavellan mumbled, not really awake, “can get _fucked_.”

“Oh, can he?” Solas asked, torn between indignation and the want to laugh, and he closed his eyes, bleeding into being alongside the Inquisitor. He wouldn’t remember it, come morning – he never did, when Solas did this.

He loomed over Lavellan on four paws, growling, baring his teeth.

When Lavellan turned to face him, he bared his own teeth in retort, and Solas’ heart soared hot in his chest as they began the chase.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to hit up [my ask on Tumblr,](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask) to talk about DA in general, and definitely to recommend blogs to follow! I am open for requests (for Origins, II, and Inq). I also run a no-drama Dragon Age Discord, which [you can join here.](https://discordapp.com/invite/ttgP5v8) Please comment if you can!


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